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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280100">a whole new world</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay'>princesskay</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mindhunter (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Sexting, Shameless Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:47:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Holden introduces Bill to the perks of modern technology. It's a whole new world - sexting isn't just for awkward, horny teenagers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Holden Ford/Bill Tench</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a whole new world</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based on a request from anonymous on tumblr for a modern AU where Holden sends Bill nudes. Thanks for the prompt! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A month after they start dating, Holden cajoles Bill into buying a new cell phone. He doesn’t want to hear about how Bill liked his Blackberry, no matter how outdated it is, or how he doesn’t really care to take the effort of learning how to use the brand new technology. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll see. It’s so much better.” Holden says as Bill watches him set up the new phone, his thumb swiping and tapping deftly across the touch screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?” Bill asks, “My old phone sends texts and makes calls. What else do I need it for?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lot of things. It’s a whole new world, Bill.” Holden says, “For one, this phone has a screen that you can actually see, and it takes really nice photos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I going to be taking pictures of?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holden shrugs again, but he’s biting back a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Bill presses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holden hands the phone over to Bill, and rises from the couch. “At the very least, you’ll be able to actually see pictures that I send to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill’s eyes narrow as Holden casts a coy smile over his shoulder before wandering into the kitchen. Leaving the phone on the couch, Bill follows behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you implying?” Bill asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holden pulls open the refrigerator, and retrieves the bottle of orange juice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like you don’t know.” Holden says, uncapping the juice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill leans against the counter, and crosses his arms. He should really be chiding Holden about drinking directly out of the bottle of orange juice, but he’s too distracted thinking about what kinds of pictures Holden might be sending him in the near future. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sexting. Really?” He says, keeping his tone flat and uninterested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holden lowers the bottle from his mouth, and licks his lips. “Now, you see my point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How old are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill, sexting is not just for awkward, horny teenagers.” Holden says, “We travel a lot, sometimes not together. I miss you when you’re gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill sighs, wanting to argue. The idea of sending dirty pictures over a text is so juvenile and raunchy that he can already feel his ears burning, but when Holden makes his inclinations sound sweet, it’s difficult to muster his gumption. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he doesn’t argue. He learns how to use the fancy new phone with its touch screen and apps and high quality camera; and by the time he does go out of town on his own for work, he’s already pushed the conversation far to the back of his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s in Boulder, Colorado. The police precinct is a modern, minimalist structure in a square patch of downtown that’s squatted low enough to glimpse the gray mountain range beyond the wall of glass windows that borders the conference room.  The task force is assembled to review their current status and any progress they’ve made on a series of rapes and murders. Afternoon sunlight spills across the cherry wood table where Bill’s case file is open in front of him. He’s focused on the details, the ribbons left in the victim’s hair, the lipstick writing on her inner thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, his phone starts buzzing his pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lead detective on the case, a stern, older man with bushy eyebrows cuts him a glare as Bill fumbles to get the phone out of his pocket and silence it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” He mutters as all eyes at the table turn towards him. “New phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve all gone back to paying attention to the presentation by the time he thumbs at the volume button. The lock screen comes on, displaying the message preview from Holden. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Miss you, daddy x </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill almost drops the phone. Alarm and need collide in his chest and drop like a rock into his belly. He glances around the table, but no one is paying attention to the flush beginning to scald his throat and cheeks. When he looks back down at the phone, a new message has popped up in the preview window. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so horny without you here. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Then another: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holden shared a photo. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill shoves the phone back in his pocket, and braces a hand over his mouth and cheek, hoping the gesture will hide what is undoubtedly a rash of scarlet creeping up to his eyes. His belly squirms, need prickling uncontrollably. Suddenly, he can’t focus on anything the lead detective is saying because all he can think about is the fact that Holden is sending him pictures, and he wants nothing more than to run out of this conference to look at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With no small amount of effort, Bill forces his attention back to the crime scene photos. The sight of white skin and spilled blood should have been an instant buzzkill, but it serves only as a temporary damper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the conference concludes, Bill’s fingers are drumming anxiously against his thigh. The lead detective releases them all back to their individual tasks, and Bill gathers up his case files quickly. He escapes the conference room, and deposits the case files on his desk before heading for the bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another man is using the urinal when he slips inside. Bill avoids eye contact as he shuffles slowly across the tile, avoiding making use of one of the other urinals. He’s fighting a stirring erection that he’d rather not wrangle into taking a piss just for the sake of appearances. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and pretends to look at something on it while the guy finishes his business. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The message preview displays the same damning words: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holden shared a photo. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill cautiously unlocks the phone, and opens the messenger. His heart stammers as the screen opens to a virtual camera roll of images. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind him, the bathroom door slams. He whirls around to see that he’s alone. Rushing across the bathroom, he turns the lock on the door, ensuring his privacy. Then he goes into one of the stalls and locks that door too just to be safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bracing a hand against the painted, cement wall, Bill lifts the phone again. He slowly scrolls back through the ream of messages. In the silence, his blood is pounding like the surge of a waterfall in his ears. Waves of heat roll down his chest and belly as he gets back to the first string of messages. Then the pictures start. He clicks on the first one, and the picture opens full screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a visual strip tease, starting with a selfie. Holden had put a filter on the picture, giving himself kitty ears and rosy cheeks. In the second photo, the camera goes lower. Holden is lying in bed in his boxer briefs that barely conceal a full blown erection. As Bill swipes through the pictures, he watches as the fabric slowly peels back to reveal Holden’s bare, hard cock from a dozen different angles. When Holden is done showing off his swollen cock, he gets on his hands and knees to photograph his bare ass. Then he starts fingering himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill exits out of the camera roll, and presses his eyes shut against the unbearable tide of need pounding through his body. His cock is so hard inside his trousers that it fucking hurts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drawing in a staggered breath, he cautiously goes back into the messenger. He scrolls down through the messages. Sandwiched in between two pictures of Holden’s fingers lodged in his asshole is the message: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wish you were here doing this to me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill thinks about typing a reply, but doesn’t even know where to begin. He calls instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The phone rings twice before Holden picks up. “Hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sick.” Bill says, disbelief rasping through his choked voice. “You know that? You’re a sick fuck, Holden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holden chuckles into the phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was in a meeting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope no one could see how hard you must be getting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, they couldn’t.” Bill says, searching for his anger. But just the sound of Holden’s voice, even in the snarky, smart-ass tone it is now, is enough to make his erection descend into violent throbs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Where are you? It sounds echo-y.” Holden says. When Bill fails to reply, he draws in a sharp breath. “Are you in the bathroom?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill bites his lower lip. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alone?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holden snickers into the phone. “Are you going to do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck. Well now I have to.” Bill says, sharply. “Because I’ve got a huge erection, and I can’t go back out there like this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, this completely defeats the purpose of sexting.” Holden says, “You’re supposed to text me back, and tell me all the dirty things you’re going to do with me once you get home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you don’t want to know what I’m doing with you once I get home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holden moans, softly. “Are you going to punish me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d like that too much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to spank me, daddy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill sucks in a sharp breath through his nostrils. Every inch of him feels like he’s on fire. The idea of reality, that he’s still in a precinct bathroom miles away from Holden, hovers just outside his scope of need, adding an edge of palpable danger to the conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure.” Bill says, “And you’re going to get so turned on you’re begging me to come. Maybe I’ll jack you off, just a little bit. But then I’m going to stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holden is silent on the other end for the first time. Bill can hear him whimper softly, but he doesn’t have a smart reply at the ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to  be tied down and helpless.” Bill continues, his voice rasping quietly against the hollow walls of the bathroom stall. “Begging me for it. But I won’t let you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holden groans into the phone. Bill can hear fabric shuffling and the scratch of static as Holden moves, undoubtedly touching himself again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re making me so hard.” Holden whispers. “Fuck. Are you as hard as I am? God, I want to see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill clutches the phone against his ear, feeling his palm going sweaty around the sleek plastic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you show me?” Holden whispers, “Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill draws in a hitched breath. His head is swimming with need, his body aching with arousal. He should be hanging up right now. He should be lecturing Holden for real, not with threats of sexual torture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to hang up.” Holden says, “Just press the home button, and it’ll suspend the call. Then you can take the picture and send it to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill’s eyes spring open. Is he really about to do this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?” Holden whispers. “I miss it, Bill. I miss your big, fat cock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, fine.” Bill says, his voice choked. “Just cool your jets for two seconds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll do it?” Holden asks, eagerly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill doesn’t answer. He pulls the phone away from his ear, and presses the home button like Holden had instructed. Sure enough, the telephone icon pops up in the notification bar, indicating that the call is still live. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands are shaking as he unzips his pants. His erection juts past the open fly, straining at the fabric of his boxers. Muting a groan, he peels the boxers away, and tucks them under his balls. He throbs freely against cool air, threatening to explode with the slightest touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening the camera, he struggles to remember how Holden told him to switch the front-facing view for a few moments before finding the little icon in the top right corner. The camera flips, and he catches a glimpse of his wrecked expression of need. Cheeks scalding, he shoves the phone down in front of his crotch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The camera shutter clicks loudly in the utter silence of the bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens the photo viewer to find that the picture came out blurry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.” He mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Struggling to still the shaking of his hand, he takes the picture again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Click. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The sound is so fucking loud, but he can’t remember how to silence it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitates for only a moment before sending the picture to Holden. The notification that Holden saw the message pops up immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill opens the call screen again, and presses the phone to his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got it.” Holden says, “Fuck. You look ready to burst.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and I can’t stay in here much longer.” Bill says, bending down to yank a handful of toilet paper from the dispenser. “I hope you enjoy this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m going to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting down on the edge of the toilet seat, Bill tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder, and clutches the handful of toilet paper over his cock. When his other hand wraps around the shaft, he can’t smother the groan that bursts from the back of his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I was there right now.” Holden whispers, his voice low and filthy. “On my knees, your cock in my mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill presses his eyes shut. Heat rolls down his body like a tide, ending in a sharp punch between his thighs. He strokes his hand over his cock, encouraging the clamping grip of arousal building towards orgasm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Holden-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to fuck my mouth until my throat is raw.” Holden pants, sounding as close to the edge as Bill. “Want you to fuck me, use me … fill me with cum.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill gasps as need lances white-hot through his middle. The phone almost slips against his cheek, and he jabs at it with his chin. Holden’s moans trickle through the tiny speakers, chafing against his raw nerves, encouraging the need pounding between his thighs. He jerks harder at his cock, his pace unrelenting and forceful. The friction is starting to burn, but he ignores it for the tingles building towards climax. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holden moans from across the phone line, his voice descending to a helpless, erotic whimper. It’s like a finger pressing down on the trigger of a loaded gun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill chokes a sound of pleasure as the orgasm hits hard between his thighs. He rubs relentlessly at his cock as the spasms sweep through him. He bows forward, his body trembling on the edge of the toilet seat through a long series of bone-deep convulsions. He releases into the handful of toilet paper, feels it fill up the thin layers of two-ply until it’s a soggy mess plastered over the tip of his wilting cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill’s eyes open slowly to view the grimy, tan tiles of the bathroom floor. He’s panting, his body humming with pleasure, feeling like he’s been rubbed raw, turned inside out, and drained dry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holden is gasping from the other end of the phone call, finishing himself off with a few high-pitched whimpers. He settles down, his breath filtering against the hum of static. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.” He whispers, “That was so hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill peels slick toilet paper from his cock, and stands up slowly to deposit the soiled mess into the bowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill?” Holden whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you mad for real?” Holden asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill swallows hard, finding it difficult to relocate his frustration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be mad.” Holden says, using a wheedling tone like that of a child begging for candy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill lets out a sigh. “I’m not. But if you ever do that to me again, I’m going to do worse than withhold an orgasm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holden lets out a breathless laugh. “Fair enough."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go.” Bill says, bending over to give the toilet a forceful flush. “They’re going to start breaking down the door if I don’t come out pretty soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me later?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. When I’m at the hotel.” Bill says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great!” Holden says, cheerfully. “Then we can video chat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Video chat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, that’s another feature your Blackberry didn’t have.” Holden says, “It’s awesome. You’ll see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill shakes his head. “Okay, fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Bill mutters as he zips his trousers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill pauses, adsorbing that response. They’ve said it before, but it’s never intersected with work. Neither has jacking off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you said you weren’t mad.” Holden says after a long silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not. I love you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Talk to you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill hangs up the phone, and tucks it in his pocket. He glances around the confines of the bathroom stall, and suddenly feels an unstoppable laugh bubbling up in his belly. He presses a hand over his forehead, expelling a chuckle with a long exhale of disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frustration has passed, and he’s left staring at the absurdity of what he’d just done, a jaunt into juvenile recklessness he hasn’t experienced in some time. He’d never had a cell phone when he was a kid, but there had always been bathrooms, back seats of cars, the underside of the bleachers, a need so panicked it couldn’t be ignored or wrestled under control. He can’t really complain because he feels young again, at the beginning of something fresh and new. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill puts himself back together, and comes out of the bathroom stall. He washes his hands in the sink while he stares himself down in the mirror and forces a placid expression to his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he emerges from the bathroom, there’s a line of two or three detectives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, man, what’s the deal?” One of them asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Bill says, “I think it was something I ate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guy shakes his head in disbelief before ducking into the bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill goes back to his desk, and sits down to focus on his work. He puts his phone on his desk. The message preview is popping up again, a long row of kissy face emojis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill grabs the phone again, completely given over to this little game. He texts back: </span>
  <em>
    <span>just wait until tonight. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The three little dots pop up to indicate that Holden is texting back, but Bill silences the phone and puts it in his desk drawer. He’s going to let Holden stew on that until five o’clock rolls around. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p><p>I'm <a href="https://prinxcesskayy.tumblr.com//">prinxcesskayy</a> on Tumblr!<br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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